One hold at a time

Climbing out of depression and anxiety

After dating an unemployed, former investment banker that I didn’t even like very much for four months, I’d been dumped. Actually, it was worse. He ghosted me. Not after four dates, after four months!

I was livid. I was hurt. I didn't know what to do other than go to bars and get drunk. I felt worthless.

It seemed like whenever I looked back at my life, all I could see was a series of failures. Before this awkward dating scenario, I had been in a five-year-long relationship that had been doomed from the start, but we tried our best to make work anyways.

Loving against the odds was tiring. Neither of us was aware enough to see our own shortfalls, and we both repeated the bad habits and traumas we inherited from our broken families.

To heal, I threw myself into working at a design studio, hopeful that a career would offer a way out of a dismal situation. It was a good distraction. I went from intern to part-time contractor to full-time staff. 

But I still wanted more — like an actual living wage for expenses in Los Angeles and an upward trajectory. Sadly, I couldn’t see it. All I could see were anxious days in a windowless concrete building and depressing nights spent alone in a new neighborhood where I knew no one.

Desperate for human connection and something to do, I asked an old friend to take me to the rock climbing gym.

Climbing taught me how to try

Convinced I was a broken person, I felt no good reason to try anything risky in life or at work. I wanted to be good at my job, but I didn't see a place for myself to grow in the long term.

The rock climbing gym gave me a place to try a low-stakes challenge and either get to the top or fall off. If I fell, I could assess what I needed to do to make it work, then get back on and try again. In a very primitive and direct way, I was learning how to problem-solve.

I wasn’t that self-aware at the time though. All I wanted was to get to the top as many times as possible and to try harder and harder climbs. I threw my rage at the colorful walls and for the first time in a very long time, tried my absolute hardest at something.

After a few hours of climbing, I could finally relax and get out of my own head. I didn’t even need drugs to go to sleep.

The mind-body-spirit connection

Spending 8-10 hours at the office every day meant my life lacked physical activity. I lived on coffee and takeout because that was convenient during work hours, and I'd only go outside to walk far enough away from the studio so I could smoke unnoticed.

Climbing allowed my body to remember what it was like to move around. Remember those dance classes you used to love? Remember the years of martial arts training?

As I got more experienced at rock climbing, I was able to dig deep into the library of movement I had in my body and climb with a style that was unique to just me. I learned to express myself quietly on the rock, and climbing became an act of physical liberation for me.

The mind-body-spirit connection works like a triangle, and as I expanded the mind and body aspects of my triangle through rock climbing, my dormant spirit had to wake up in order to stay in balance.

Trying hard in Holcomb Valley Pinnacles, CA

It's okay to let go

Anxiety runs deep through many generations in my family. As a teenager, I was told by an acupuncturist that I was the most stressed-out kid he had ever encountered. But I didn't feel stressed out — that was just how I had always been.

When I was 27, I accidentally went to work under the effect of Vicodin, a narcotic painkiller. That was the very first time I was able to slow my mind down enough so I could actually listen and address situations as they were unfolding.

It was only then that I realized something was wrong with the state of mind I was usually locked up in.

I was anxious while climbing too, especially outdoors. If I was climbing above my last clip, I would have trouble committing to the next move for fear I might take a fall.

But, I had a goal that was bigger than my fears: I wanted to finish the climb. And most times, my fear wasn’t justified.

I learned how to check my surroundings and make sure that a fall wouldn’t actually injure me. Then came the hard work of convincing my nerves that it was okay to go for it without worrying about falling a few feet.

Looking into the unknown in Red Rock, NV. Photo: Brian Spiegel

One move at a time, I learned how to maneuver through the unknown. Even though I didn’t know what the next hold felt like, I could rely on the safety systems I had built and commit to making a move. I learned that more often than not, committing one hundred percent was the absolute key to making the impossible possible. Half-assing it because I was irrationally afraid would never get me to the top.

There are lots of people out there that say climbing helped them heal. I totally get it. In hindsight, I probably took it too far in my early days, and my body paid for it.

But thanks to climbing, I learned how to problem-solve. First by figuring out how to pull myself up from one hold to the next. Then, by figuring out how to get from an unhappy stage in life to a new and different stage filled with unknown possibilities.

Climbing Skinny Dip in Joshua Tree, CA. Photo: Jeremy Eng

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Dear Friends,

Thanks for sticking around for Issue #9 of the Same Human Being newsletter! This article marks the last article I will write about rock climbing, at least for a little while. How’d you like this series? Want to talk about it? Reply to this email :)

I’ve committed myself to write about different topics in 4-week sprints. My next topic will either be martial arts OR my art business, Dynamite Starfish. Let me know what you’re interested in!

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Everything Will Be O.K.

For anyone who could use it, here’s a little drawing I made in 2012 to help me get out of my own negative anxiety loops.

Think it can help you or someone you know? Here are some helpful links:

Download it for FREE as a phone or tablet wallpaper

Get it as an 8x10” print for your wall

See it in painted on the corner of Rose & Overland in Palms, CA